


wanna feel your power

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Kinktober 2020 [25]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (sort of), But also, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Credence gets it all lol, Dirty Talk, Dom Original Percival Graves, Dom/sub Undertones, Hair-pulling, Hypnosis Kink, Kinktober, M/M, Movie Theater Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Sub Credence Barebone, and he is super soft for Cree because of course he is, because Percival can't help but spoil his boy, because why not, this is self indulgent as all get out you guys I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Credence feels a little thrum of anticipation as Percy sits down beside him, popcorn bucket in hand. He knows that look in his lover’s eyes inside-out. Percy has a surprise planned for the movie, which is in all likelihood is why he said it “didn’t matter” what they went to see.Whenever Percy insists they see a movie that he knows Credence will most likely hate, it means something really, really good is about to happen.DAY 31 of KinktoberWritten for prompts: hypnosis | public sex | coming in pants | hair-pulling | dirty talk
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Series: Kinktober 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950283
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43
Collections: Fantastic Beasts and where to find them





	wanna feel your power

**Author's Note:**

> I survived Kinktober! Missed a few days, but here we are at the end!
> 
> On an unrelated note, I am probably never writing smut again. They're all gonna wait for their freakin' wedding nights in the rest of my fics guys, for real.*
> 
> *Not for real. I promise there will be sex again in my other fics. I'm just tired af XD

Credence feels a little thrum of anticipation as Percy sits down beside him, popcorn bucket in hand. He knows that look in his lover’s eyes inside-out. Percy has a surprise planned for the movie, which is in all likelihood is why he said it “didn’t matter” what they went to see.

Whenever Percy insists they see a movie that he knows Credence will most likely hate, it means something really,  _ really _ good is about to happen.

Percy slides an arm around his shoulders as they settle into their seats. He’s chosen a nice theater, with those comfy, squashy seats that feel more like soft armchairs than auditorium seats, and they’re up in the far back corner (another sign that Credence is not really going to be in much condition to watch most of the movie). “Are you good here?” Percy asks as Credence snuggles up to his side. “If you need anything, need to use the restroom or anything like that, I’d go now. Not cold, are you? They crank the A/C up in here until it drops under 40 outside, so—”

“I’m fine,” Credence interrupts, unable to hold back a little laugh; Percy is so overprotective it’s adorable. “Yes, I already went to the bathroom and yes, it’s freezing in here but I’m wearing a sweater, Percy, I’m okay, I promise.”

Percy nods, satisfied, and pulls Credence so that his head rests on his shoulder. “Just want you to be happy and comfortable, love. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry, I am.”

Credence endures the previews (they’re all dark, angsty thrillers, the exact kind of movie that Percy knows he hates), and the first fifteen minutes of the movie. It’s utterly terrible, some trashy action movie about a guy who wakes up in a facility after being turned into a killing machine of some kind—whatever. Credence isn’t really paying attention. He’s waiting for something much better to happen.

Percy acts casual through the first fifteen minutes or so of the movie. Credence is already fairly checked out, his method of dealing with the violent, plotless, absolutely ridiculous movies that Percy likes, so he’s already feeling pretty mellow when Percy squeezes his shoulders gently, leans in and whispers, “I want you to take a nice, slow breath for me, sweetheart.”

Credence tries to do just that, even as his heart flutters in anticipation.  _ Here we go… _

Percy knows, of course; he can read Credence like a book, even in the dark. “Deep breaths, just like that,” he coaches as he strokes steadily up and down Credence’s shoulder—up when he inhales, down when he exhales. “Just like that, baby, you’re doing so good…just like that. Look straight ahead. Good boy. I’m going to count down from five to one, and when I reach one I want you to close your eyes and let go for me, can you do that, sweetheart? Good. Five…another nice deep breath, just like that…four…so good, just relax, just like that…three, and you can feel your eyes getting heavy now love, can’t you…two…and one, let go, just fall into trance for me, just like that…very good, love. Just like that. There’s my good boy.”

At some point the words become meaningless to Credence, who is already floating, he thinks, from the first  _ good boy. _ It didn’t take long for Percy—a stage hypnotist who is  _ very _ good at his job—to figure out how well Credence responded to praise. And it didn’t take him long after that, when they first tentatively started “mixing work and pleasure,” as Percy playfully called it, to figure out that a combination of praise, reassurance, and light, comforting touch would make Credence drop so easily that they didn’t even need to implant a trigger word to make him enter or re-enter trance.

Now he’s melting comfortably in Percy’s arms, not so much unaware of where he is or what’s going on around him as much as that he just plain doesn’t care. The sounds of gunfire and screaming from the movie have faded into white noise and he feels so good, so calm, like he’s floating suspended in warm water. He knows Percy is still talking to him, knows something is going to happen, but he feels too safe and relaxed to care much about what it is. He’s also vaguely aware that he’s getting very,  _ very _ aroused but, given what usually happens when Percy puts him under, that’s not much of a surprise.

And then he’s awake again, and feels a little thrill of anticipation when he sees the way Percy is looking at him. “What did you do to me?” he whispers, wincing a little as the noise from the movie hits him full-force again.

Percy gives his arm a comforting squeeze. “You’ll find out,” he replies, and even in the low light Credence can see him licking his lips.

Well. That’s promising.

Credence settles back in his seat and tries to look anywhere but at the screen (he really does hate this kind of movie), and relaxes into the low, thrumming hum of anticipation buzzing through his veins. He squirms a little, unable to ignore the arousal burning low in his belly. 

Percy waits another ten minutes or so, petting Credence’s hair intermittently and almost absently stroking the back of Credence’s neck. Credence gets increasingly turned on during this period and at one point can’t help but let out an impatient little  _ mmm! _ to let Percy know he’s not at all pleased with the slow burn.

And then Percy weaves his fingers into Credence’s hair and tugs, and Credence immediately loses every semblance of rational thought in his head.

It’s the strangest, most intense, most  _ delicious _ feeling he’s ever had. It’s like an orgasm—he can feel the burst of pleasure starting low in his belly and spreading across every inch of his skin—but it’s not, it can’t be, because nothing is coming out of him, he can feel that too and it’s  _ weird. _ But it feels so, so incredibly good.

“What,” he gasps when he can breathe again.

“Sh-h-h.” Percy’s fingertips lightly caress the back of his neck. “Relax, love. Did you like that? Did it feel good? You did so well, you know…good job staying quiet.” He strokes the back of Credence’s neck for a few minutes, lulling him back into a semi-relaxed state and then, with another tug of his hair, sends him spiraling into another mental orgasm that leaves him breathless.

It takes a few repetitions of this cycle for Credence to realize two things. First of all, the mental climaxes do absolutely nothing to quell the fact that he is extremely, achingly hard. And second, Percy is waiting progressively longer between hair pulls, which is unfortunate because with every tug of his hair and subsequent intense burst of pleasure, Credence craves it more and more.

“Please,” he whispers at one point, almost to the end of the movie, while the hero of the movie is learning that the beautiful blonde girl who woke him up after he was turned into a killing bot is not his wife, but the villain’s. “Please, I need—”

“Sh-h-h.” Percy has been gently petting the back of his neck for the last fifteen minutes, and Credence is absolutely desperate. “Relax, lovely. I’ll make it worth the wait.”

But by now he’s too far gone to care, and he wants, needs, cares about nothing but getting that good feeling again. “Please, Percy,” he whimpers quietly, pressing himself as close into his lover’s side as he can. “Please, you can’t do this to me, I’m so turned on it hurts, please,  _ please—” _

“Oh, sweetheart. Is it hurting now, really?” Percy moves his hand, to Credence’s absolute despair, down to his side and strokes him there, a touch that would be calming and reassuring if Credence wasn’t so turned on that even the slightest touch feels like a tease. “You want to come, really come, don’t you, baby. You know, if I made you drop again right now…I could make you think I’m on my knees for you, could make you think I’ve got that lovely cock of yours down my throat, could make you think I’m swallowing you down all the way, choking on it, making you fuck my face like I’m nothing, like I’m your machine—”

“Stop,” Credence whimpers, squirming against Percy and burying his face in his neck, trying so hard to think about anything other than how desperately hard he is. “Please, I can’t take it—”

“Oh, I think you can.” Percy’s voice is so soft in his ear that there’s no way anyone else could hear it in the theater, but to Credence it sounds like 5.1 surround sound. “I think if I told you to come right now you would, wouldn’t you. You’d come right in your jeans like a teenager, and you’d love it, you’d thank me for it—”

“Percy,  _ please!” _

“Sh-h-h…you need to trust me, sweetheart. You know I’ll make you feel so good, you know I’ll never leave you wanting, you just need to trust me and let me do what I need to do.” He kisses the side of Credence’s flushed face and trails his hand slowly back up to Credence’s neck, making feather-light patterns with his fingertips. Credence can’t hold back a little keen; whatever trigger Percy implanted to make him stay quiet during those intense mental climaxes apparently does not work during the buildup. “Sh-h-h. Relax, baby. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Credence slurs quietly into his shoulder, tears soaking through Percy’s shirt. “Please, I need it, I need—”

_ “You need to come.” _

An uncontrollable rush of pleasure breaks free and Credence is suddenly, absolutely  _ drowning, _ he can’t hear the gunfire from the movie or see straight in front of him or feel anything but intense, overwhelming pure bliss. Every part of him is alight with pleasure, every single nerve ending singing. He’s never felt so good in his life and he’s already forgotten about how painful the buildup was; all he cares about is that this is the best orgasm he’s ever had.

When he comes down from the high he’s shivering and his pants are soaked, and he realizes that the credits are rolling on the movie. Percy holds him close, so that his face is still buried in Percy’s shoulder, and rubs his back as he quivers through the aftershocks. “Sleep for me, sweetheart,” he whispers, and Credence gratefully lets himself sink into trance again, soothed by Percy’s steady voice and the gentle pressure of his touch. He knows what’s going on now; this is the “aftercare” part, where Percy removes whatever triggers he’s implanted and helps Credence stay relaxed enough to avoid subdrop. 

(It’s still funny, on some level to think of himself as “submissive” in any context; he spent so much of his life wishing to be stronger and more assertive, to not be forced into submission, and now he willingly submits himself in the most deep and intimate way on a regular basis? But it’s different, he knows it is; he’s not doing this because he’s afraid Percy will hurt him if he doesn’t. He’s doing this because they both enjoy it.)

Percy brings him out of it as the lights are coming back on and the rest of the theatergoers are filing out. “All right, lovely?” he says, watching closely as Credence stretches and takes his time sitting back up straight on his own. “Not feeling cold or shaky, are you?”

“No,” Credence assures him. “No, I’m fine. That was really good.”

“Yeah?” Percy squeezes his hand. “Good. Anything we need to talk about? Was the denial too much?”

Credence shakes his head. “No. I mean, I don’t love that part, but the, um. The finale was worth it.”

Percy chuckles and gives his hand another squeeze before he stands up and pulls Credence with him. “Okay. Then let’s get you home and cleaned up. And next time…” Credence watches him eagerly, practically licking his lips in anticipation. “Next time,” Percy says slowly, “I think I’ll make you forget we aren’t alone.”

Credence shivers a little at the thought. “Ooh. Yes, please. I think I’d like that.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Credence lets Percy lead him out of the aisle and down the steps, out of the theater and back to the outside world. As much as he hates these movies, he  _ loves _ what Percy does to make it better when they go to see one.


End file.
